DUI, Doubt, Forgiveness
by blazerrose
Summary: Jack's new assistant reveals a bit about her past that helps explain who she is, and opens a door
1. DUI

DUI  
  
Jack poured himself a drink to sit back in his chair with and ponder about the day. He'd had the same routine for years, and it was comfortable. This new assistant of his had been there for six months and ragged him about his scotch. Damn kid, she just doesn't get it.  
  
Kathy walked up to Jack's door and knocked. He turned and motioned her in, despite the fact he knew he was going to get a mocking. Sure enough, Kathy saw the drink and said, "You know, you don't need that stuff." Jack sat down in a humph, and said, "You've told me that before, and I don't really care. You're my assistant, not my keeper."  
  
"Suit yourself," she replied, and turned on her heels and walked out. Jack breathed a sigh of relief, knowing he was now going to get that evening of peace he had so been looking forward to.  
  
The next morning Jack had to drop off a file in Kathy's office. He approached her empty desk, set the file on top of her in-box, and noticed the prescription bottle on her desk. "That's funny, I don't remember her saying she was sick. Wonder what this is for...." He picked up the bottle and looked at it. Zoloft. He frowned at the thought that his new assistant was in need of drugs, when she walked in. "Find anything you like!?" she angrily called. He turned to face her and she stormed over to yank the bottle from his hand. "I've taken it for years, thank you, and I don't abuse them." She opened the bottle and poured out most of the pills into her hand. "See, refill done four days ago, and as you can see, most of the pills are still here – three month supply. OK!!??" "Kathy, I wasn't trying to pry..." "Good! Now you can leave!" Jack looked down and left her office, feeling her eyes burn into his back as he did.  
  
A few hours went by. Kathy walked into Jack's office, slowly approached the conference table, and sat in the chair to the left of Jack's desk. She was nervous, perched on the edge of the chair, with her hands folded in her lap and her spine stiff with anxiety. She began softly, "It was almost Christmas, finals of my second year of law school. My parents were visiting me on the way to California to see friends for the holidays. They left early, about 6:30 am to get an early start on their long drive. I went back to sleep. I woke up when the phone rang about 8. It was a state trooper. I only remember his first words, 'I am so sorry to tell you this....' I realized the rest during the trial. Just after they got on I-5 heading south, a drunk driver crossed the grassy median dividing the lanes and struck my parents' car. He was doing about 90 at impact. They were killed instantly. I somehow got through finals, but I couldn't function. My friends were all worried. I went to a psychiatrist and he gave me the Zoloft. I used to take a lot more. What you saw in the bottle used to be a one-month supply. Now it's a three-month supply. I want to stop taking it. But... I'm afraid that all these years I have pushed my feelings down, and that if I do stop taking them, all those feelings will flood me and I won't know what to do with them. So. Now you know. And now you know why I disapprove of even social drinking. He was just a social drinker, too, you see. With a blood/alcohol of .18. Oregon's limit is .08."  
  
Jack drew a heavy breath, and studied his glass for a moment, then set it carefully on his desk as he loosened his tie with his other hand. He looked over at Kathy who was looking past him at this point to the picture of his daughter on the credenza. Suddenly that drink didn't seem so appealing anymore. He said, "I'm so sorry. I had no idea...."  
  
"I know you didn't, Jack, and I apologize for going off on you so hard earlier. It's just a really touchy subject for me, and you had found my rather ugly little secret before I was ready to fill you in. You are my boss, and I guess you have a right to know, but I just... I don't know.... I wasn't ready to tell you yet. Can we get out of here and go get some dinner?"  
  
"Of course. Chinese or Italian? I'll buy."  
  
"Italian would be great, and you don't have to. I don't need pity, just understanding."  
  
He smiled softly and said, "Then you shall have no pity. Let's go." He rose and gathered his beat-up old green coat, then waited for her to stand. He walked her out, and turned out the lights to his office. He spotted his glass on his desk, and made a vow to himself to get sober. Just as she said, you bury your problems for so long, hidden by a drug, you don't know how to deal with them anymore, and it was time he found out. 


	2. Doubt

Doubt  
  
He picked up the phone and dialed 927. _It's 8:30 – she's surely there now_.  
  
"ADA Robbins," she answered.  
  
"Kathy, I need to see you in my office."  
  
"Ok, I'll be right up."  
  
He turned over the document on his desk and waited for her. She arrived shortly, slightly out of breath from taking the stairs. "What's up?"  
  
"Have a seat. And close the door." He indicated towards a chair for her, but remained standing and crossed his arms. She saw the tense look on his face, and felt her heart sink. She sat down carefully, crossed her legs at the ankles, and folded her hands in her lap. He turned away slightly. "I need to know something, Kathy." He turned back to face her. "I need to know that the person who sits next to me second chair is capable of handling the job. I have some serious concerns about your temper. I also wonder if you are in over your head in major felonies."  
  
Her stomach knotted up, but she kept eye contact with Jack as she said softly, "No, I can do it."  
  
"I figured you could. You have a great deal of talent. God knows I'm not perfect, but I need for you to stay in control. Let me ask you this. When was the last vacation you had?"  
  
"I don't know. Over a year ago."  
  
"Here's the deal. You will wrap up the cases on your calendar, and then you'll take a couple of weeks off, get away from here for a while. When you come back, I'll put you back on the trial calendar, and we'll meet periodically to make sure you're handling them ok. We have a very stressful job. You have to maintain control, Kathy." She nodded, hiding the shaking she felt in her hands. "Arthur does not know about this yet, and he won't – if you keep your end of the deal. This reprimand," he said as he turned over the document, "will go in your file, and that will be as far as it will go. Can you do what I've asked?" She nodded again mutely. "Ok. That will be all." He looked down at his desk as he pulled out his chair and sat down. She rose from her seat and left the office silently.  
  
At the end of the day, she sat in her chair with her back to the door, hoping the rivers of raindrops sliding down the window would hide her reflection in the window. A tap on the doorframe altered her thoughts. She tipped her head to the side to catch a glance of who it was from the edge of her vision. It was Jack. She turned back and quickly wiped her face, trying to erase the evidence before turning around and addressing him. "Hi."  
  
"Am I interrupting?"  
  
"No. Just thinking of something. What's up?"  
  
Jack pulled up a chair in front of her desk. "Your armor is rusting. Want to talk?"  
  
She thought about it for a moment. They hadn't worked together all that long, but with all his years of listening, it might not hurt. She decided to tell him anyway. She leaned forward on her desk, idly adjusting her nameplate before folding her hands. "Qualities that are praised in men will brand a woman as a bitch. I always believed that women could do anything they wanted to, but to succeed in a male-dominated world, they have to be aggressive, assertive. Most of the time, it doesn't bother me, but there are times, that I wonder if I've done the right thing." She stopped, looking down at her hands as she rubbed them together.  
  
"Want some advice?"  
  
"Sure."  
  
"You're right. In this job, you do need to be assertive, and most people are used to women still being the kinder, gentler sex. They don't know what to think about a strong woman. You are a smart attorney, Kathy, and a smart young woman. You have figured out, mostly, what works for you. For what it's worth, I don't think you're a bitch. You have a fire that burns when you sense a wrong, and you are committed to making it right. I think the world needs more like you, not less."  
  
"I've really messed up, though, haven't I?"  
  
"If you prove you can maintain control, no, you haven't."  
  
She looked up and saw the soft sincerity in his eyes and knew he wasn't just trying to make her feel better. "Thank you." A quick flash of a smile played on her face, then faded. She resumed looking at her hands.  
  
"I think I'll leave you to your thoughts." He rose to leave, and leaned over to pat her hands lightly before going.  
  
She stayed quiet for a moment, then opened her lower desk drawer and got out a tea bag and a mug. She headed down the hall to get some hot water, enjoying the silence of the floor this late at night and how it gave her the chance to chase the noise and doubts from her mind. 


	3. Forgiveness

Forgiveness  
  
_1:30am. Who on Earth is knocking at my door?_ Kathy grabbed her robe and tried to smooth her hair as she went to the door, and hoped she was decent. A quick check – _camisole top, sweats, yeah, everything is covered_. She got to the door, and looked through the peephole. _Jack? What is he doing here?_ She opened the door. She had never seen him look so bedraggled. "I'm sorry to disturb you so late. Can I come in?"  
  
"Um, sure yeah." She stood back and indicated for him to come in. "Hang a right through that door and go through the kitchen, can I get you anything? Soda, tea, water?"  
  
"No, I'm ok." He saw the couch in the main room as he left the kitchen, and went to sit down. He perched, on the edge, and folded his hands in front of him, leaning his elbows on his knees as he often did while thinking. "I shouldn't be here. You are my assistant, not my counselor. I just don't know who else to trust."  
  
She took a seat in the chair at Jack's left, and said, "It's ok. Obviously something is wrong if you're here at this hour."  
  
Jack checked his watch, and started to stand. "Sit!" Kathy barked. He did, dropping back to the couch like his upper body was mere dead weight. "Do you know what today is?" he asked.  
  
"April 22nd. Uh, Earth Day?"  
  
Jack smiled quickly at her comment, and the smile faded just as fast. "Eight years ago this night, about this time, Claire Kincaid was struck by a drunk driver." His words hit Kathy and she regretted her stupid Earth Day remark. _Too late now_. He continued. "I have never been spun off my axis as I was that day. It's been years, and it feels like I'm beating my head on a wall, but never actually climbing over it. I heard your words when you told me of your parents, and I've tried to stop drinking, but this is one battle, one case I can't win." Jack's tired eyes confirmed the truth of his words, and Kathy knew this was only the beginning for him. He had a huge war to fight.  
  
"Perhaps this isn't my place to say anything, but it seems like alcohol has been an anesthetic, not a cure all these years. You need more help than one person can give. Maybe you should have Lennie sponsor you."  
  
Knowing what she meant, Jack suddenly sat up straight looking like he'd seen a ghost. "I... couldn't..."  
  
"Jack, you are human, not a robot. You need other people. Admitting you have a problem is a sign of strength, not a weakness, despite what your dad taught you."  
  
Jack's eyes bored into her with a mix of anger, sadness, understanding, and embarrassment. He had no idea he had said so much, and given so much of himself away. The anger faded as he realized he had done it all himself – after all, he was the one who showed up at her door to bare his soul. He realized he made himself uncomfortable since he wasn't in perfect control. "Can I unload on you a while?" he asked with almost a hangdog expression.  
  
"Of course. I'm going to brew some tea – want any?" He nodded, and she left, returning shortly with two steaming mugs. He talked of Claire, of work, of growing up, failures and fears, real and perceived. He talked himself tired, and when he yawned like a cat about 3:30, Kathy stood up and said, "Wait a second". She went to her linen closet and retrieved a quilt. Without objecting, Jack tucked the couch pillow under his head and Kathy draped the quilt over him. He had barely closed his eyes when he fell into a sound sleep.  
  
At 8:30 the next morning, he awoke to a faint waft of perfume and a gentle shake of his shoulder. He opened his eyes and saw Kathy. He was completely disoriented. "How did I...? You... We didn't...."  
  
Kathy laughed. "No, you were so tired and drained I let you sleep on the couch. You don't remember?"  
  
Then suddenly he did, and he sat up. He had poured out his heart to a relative stranger, who now knew things about him no one else did. He never had felt so vulnerable before. Kathy sensed this unease, and reassured him.  
  
"Your secrets are safe with me. I don't betray a trust." She stood to leave and said, "Oh, and I got you covered this morning with Arthur. You went to visit a friend upstate and got caught in some nasty traffic, so you're running late." She took her apartment key off her ring. "Here – lock up when you leave. There's eggs and milk in the fridge, some Cheerios and bread in the pantry, help yourself." Jack looked at her, and to her eyes looked ten years younger, despite the frazzled hair and bags under his eyes. 55 years of pain and lying to himself couldn't be fixed in one night, but it was a start. "Oh, and Jack, you need to forgive yourself. Don't look at me like that – at least just say the words to yourself until you finally believe them."  
  
He looked down at his hands, then back at her, still fidgeting. "Thank you. For everything."  
  
"You're welcome. And I meant everything I said.... I'll see you at the office." With that she closed the door, and Jack was alone, not hung over, for the first time in what seemed like ever. He was terribly frightened, and she was right. The anesthesia was wearing off, and it was time to heal. He checked his cell phone for Lennie's direct line. "Detective Briscoe, it's McCoy.... Can we meet for lunch?" 


End file.
